I am guilty of academic dishonesty.
Some of you may know that I've been two-timing my favorite professors this quarter. Professor Waid's Literature of the American South class tragically conflicted with the follow-up to the Flash animation class with Dr. Sorapure. Boo. But I did the only logical thing and enrolled in both classes, schedule conflicts be damned. I got a B on Waid's midterm, but other than that, my double life has been pain-free.
Today, I decided to skip out on the last of Waid's lectures today to see what the rest of the Flash animation class did, seeing as how I hadn't shown up to that class in the past month. When I got back to the southern lit class during the last few minutes to talk with my TA about my weird-weird-very, very weird Jean Toomer-David Lynch paper, however, I was kind of stunned. Copy maven Pealy Pealson told me that some student accused the professor of racially biasing the class against black people. That accusation, which to this particular professor would be the worst thing you could ever say to her. She sobbed through the last lecture, which ironically centered on the fact that the mysterious first-person narrator of Ballad of the Sad Cafe is an almost unseen in-house black servant.
My Catholic mind somehow blames me for this. I know it's horseshit, but I am nagged by the thought that if I had been there, the situation could have been resolved more tidily. In the meantime, I can only hope that my favorite professor isn't broken.